im really gonna miss tree bros after pride month bc yknow they become invisible until next year. no more dih just deh 💔💔💔 i hope jared kleinman will be okay during these trying times
brah I read the somewhere vital thing and I am like shaking in my boots
are you making a sequel
dude i loved writing this one so much, it was so fun
idk if i’d call it a sequel but i am writing a ghost connor murphy fic where jared thinks evan’s house is haunted (it is) and they’re like trying to ghost hunt connor but connor’s just fucking with jared equipment and shit 😭
so stay tuned for that bc i’ve been OBSESSED with ghost hunting from demonology on roblox 😭
TW: Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of Alcohol (kinda) Mentions of Firearms
Evan Hansen was not good at many things. He knew how to wear clothes, in the sense that he didn't go outside naked every day. So, he considered himself good at wearing clothes. He was good at consistency when it came to eating. Sun Butter and jelly sandwich every day for the past twelve years. He was good at panicking, sweating, and crying. He did those almost every day, so how could he be bad? He'd had lots of practice.
Returning back to the topic of not being good at things, Evan Hansen was not good at trying new things. Or going to new places. Or meeting new people. Or getting a new job. Unfortunately for him, though, all four of those things were about to happen all at once. Right now.
Evan approuched the tall metal door that stood between him and entering the back of the gas station he had just been hired at. He'd been to this gas station countless times, but never the back of it. So that was different and something he was in the dark about because he had no idea what it looked like. But at least he knew where the exit was. Unless the door locked behind him on the inside and then he'd have to run through the entire building to get to the front and leave. Terrifying to think about.
He'd gotten there early, his mom told him it would make a good impression. A good impression, yeah. He wanted to make that. Good impressions were better than mediocre or bad impressions, which is what he normally made on people. So anything that could change the mediocre or bad impression to a slightly better, more positive one, was an okay thing to do in Evan's book.
Except he'd been staring at this metal door for five minutes, too intimated by its cold, black handle. That, and the concept of working a new job. Which meant he didn't know anything or anyone. So really, it was practically the end of the world. In a way.
Just open the door, that's all he had to do. Then he'd get trained, that was easy. Just listen to someone, get told what to do. Then do it. He was pretty good at that. Oh, hey. He could mark that down, too. Another thing he could do well, added to the short, short list that had just been floating in Evan's mind for all of five, now six minutes that he had been standing there. Joy.
Open the door. Right. He reached out, pressing his fingers against its sleek surface, then pulled back. Nope. He couldn't do it. He was going back to his mom's car and telling her he was sick and couldn't do it. The car that was no longer in the parking lot, so actually that wasn't an option and his mom would've said no anyway.
With a deep breath, the shallowest deep breath he’d ever taken, Evan reached for that dreaded handle and pulled open the door. It was heavy, but still managed to swing open wide enough for him to get inside. He stepped forward, his heart slamming against his chest so hard he feared his ribs may fracture. But that had never happened before, and his heart had beat much faster than this. Like the time his letter to himself got stolen. That was terrifying because it actually led to him lying to a family about their son who had attempted to kill himself.
But Evan hadn’t seen that boy since it happened, and he hadn’t spoken to that family. So actually, there was nothing to worry about because at least he would never see them at this gas station. It was on the poorer side of their town. That family was too rich for this run-down, rock-bottom type of shopping experience gas station. Evan himself was very much poor enough to buy things from it.
A rush of warm air hit his face as he stepped inside. The room was dingy, the florescent lights buzzed like bugs were trapped inside the tubes of light. It reeked like a moldy basement, splotches of yellow staining the ceiling tiles with water damage. Evan’s shoes squeaked against the dirty floor as he scuffed them on the linoleum tiles beneath him.
Evan flinched as the door shut behind him with a slam, the latch clicking into place. Evan tried to swallow back the feeling of his heart jumping into his throat. He took big gulps of air, he couldn't hyperventilate. No, that would end horribly. If only his mom hadn't left. If only he had a car. He hated driving, though.
Momentarily, a 30 second long intermission, Evan's mind wandered to his mother. Her voice rang in his head, 'You need a car for college, you need to start driving yourself.' It didn't end up being a comforting as he intended. It was just a reminder as to why he was here in the first place.
A car. He needed to get a car. For college. The apprenticeship with the park ranger wasn't enough, it was only for two months. He needed a real job for experience. And money. That entailed getting hired at this very gas station. Right, the gas station. Where he couldn't move out of fear of... ringing people up? Irrational, probably. Unless they pulled a gun on him, then he'd probably die. Or get fired for giving away all their money. Then he wouldn't have a car anyway.
"Excuse me," Evan's attention snapped to the feeling of someone brushing past him. "Yes," Evan squeeked out, holding out his hand. His manager, he assumed. An older man, 5 O'clock shadow. Beer on his breath. "You're new here." Evan hummed out a response, unsure of how to respond to him. It sounded like he was being labeled rather than properly introduced.
Evan felt a name tag pressed to his palm, then the man was gone. He looked around, trying to pick out what he had been told as the blood rushed in his ears. It was useless. He hadn't been listening, but he had meant to. His ears were roaring, he'd zoned out.
Evan finally looked down at the name tag in his hand. Evan Hanson. They'd spelled his last name wrong. This was a predicament. Should he tell them? It probably didn't matter, it might've even been for the better. Now no one would be able to find him online, not that he thought anyone would look. That would be flattery. Unrealistic.
A chill ran down Evan's spine as he shook himself from the trance he'd gotten stuck in. He had the name tag, he was in the building, on the clock. He willed his legs to move, for once, they listened. Praise be to God. The back of the building stretched into a hallway before him, doors lining the walls, then ending abruptly with a side exit.
Evan wandered through the hallways, finding an open door. The room he peered into appeared to be a break room. Water cooler and heater, small fridge, couch with it's stuffing coming out from a tear in the cushion. The floor was lined with black carpet. One that Evan felt he could run his finger over and turn it up with brown residue stuck to his skin. A good design choice, really suited the rest of the building.
The entire hallway had also carried the scent of a moldy basement, but it was now accompanied by the aroma of weed and cigarette smoke. Not surprising, considering the manager seemed drunk. But this place was a lot different than Ellison State Park, talk about a downgrade.
Evan found himself standing in front of a door that was humming with noise, the tile under the doorway black with use and lack of cleaning. Did anyone ever clean? It didn’t smell like it. Maybe that was a gas station thing.
His hand pressed against the door as he pushed it open, taking a deep breath as he did. Nothing was worse than breaking his arm. Nothing was worse than the fall. Nothing was worse than facing that kid’s family and telling them that he had lied. Nothing was worse than having to face that kid. None of those things would happen here.
Evan could feel his heart slow, by some miracle. He’d managed to calm himself down without Ativan, maybe this therapy thing was actually working. Or it was his Lexapro. But he chose to count this as a win on his part. Only 1 million more wins to go before he’s even with himself.
With this newfound burst of momentary confidence, Evan stepped into the main store. His shift was four hours, it ended at 10p.m. He'd probably wasted 15 minutes of it standing in the backroom like a moron, so really, he didn't have that long to go. This would be fine, he worked himself up for nothing. He'd go in, greet a different manager, because they had to have another one on shift, get trained, and then leave.
Evan glanced around the isle displayed in front of him. Pop music played softly over the store, blocking out the buzzing from the lights above, identicle to the ones in the back of the building. Except they were just a little brighter.
The more he looked around, the quicker his heart beat against his chest. The confidence was a lie, a facade. He'd tricked himself, how cruel! He could feel his palms begin to slick themselves in sweat as he slinked around the isles, trying to find someone who looked like they were in charge. For some reason, that was like finding a needle in a haystack.
Evan flinched as the door at the front opened with a little ding, a customer walking in. He should've been at the front waiting on that person by now, not hiding behind shelves stocked with chips and energy drinks. The thought that maybe he was the only employee in the store formed in his crowded mind.
That's where he had to be. It was so quiet, there couldn't be anyone else working. A cash register couldn't be too hard to work, right? The manager knew he was there, maybe he was supposed to train himself. Did it work like that?
Again for hopefully, what would be the last time, Evan forced his feet to push on. 'I've been through worse', repeated over and over in his mind like a mantra. Followed by, 'I could be facing the Murphy's again. Nothing is worse than that.'
This mantra proved itself to be useless and false as Evan arrived to the front of the store.
Standing there, dressed in black and grey from head to toe, brown bangs swooped over his forehead, and piercing blue eyes that shook Evan to his core. His nightmare, the worst thing that could possibly happen. It was real.
Connor Murphy.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This is going to be multiple parts and I promise Connor and Evan get together in the end. Connor lives (obviously) and the explanation of how I decided to rework that part of the plot will be better revealed and shown as the fic goes on, especially because I plan to switch who the fic is centered around per chapter. So next chapter will be Connor centric like how this one is Evan centric. Any types of comments are very welcomed, I love talking to people on here. This is also going to be posted on my ao3 account in a better edited form, but as of me writing this, chapters should come out on Tumblr first by like an hour or so just because I do more editing for ao3. Enjoy!
hey guys im newgen to tumblr but not ao3. i write fanfic for tree bros and other ships from other musicals (be more chill cough cough). i'll take suggestions if anyone wants to or has any ideas for what i should write next. i have a few tree bros/dear evan hansen related fics out already and i'm working on more at this very moment the post is being made el em ay oh
heres one of my fics as like a crudential, you can find more on my ao3 acc obvi
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
let me know if theres anything anyone wants to see !
